Chills?
by Cheval de la Nuit
Summary: Our Dear Inspector Javert recieves a taste of his past, and the childhood denied to him. It is almost all up. Soon it will be completely posted. Mind, this is a short story:)
1. One

The wind was twisting in the trees, threatening to pull them apart. It battered the windowpanes and gave the entire city an ominous feel to it. Javert looked out at the approaching storm. He wasn't eager to leaver the warmth of his office. The bitter wind and the dark winter sky would make it twice as hard to patrol the streets efficiently. Grudgingly his shrugged into his heavy greatcoat and headed for the door. The inspector cast a wistful glance over his pristine office. It was tidy enough that it appeared barren until a further inspection showed that it was quite full, though each item from the papers to his desk had its designated place. With a last glance at the warmth he was leaving, Javert strode toward the door. "Goin' out?" a voice piped up behind him.  
  
"Pardon?" Javert turned to face his addressor, Niko Lafayette, one of his colleagues. Though the man had worked with the police longer than Javert, his demeanor made him appear a rookie.  
  
"I asked if you were really goin' out there. Paris has never been this cold before."  
  
"Oh, I highly doubt that." Javert answered curtly  
  
"Then you aren't superstitious?" the portly man asked.  
  
"What!?" Javert snapped, his pale eyes glinting.  
  
Lafayette shrugged. "I just though that.. Well, with you being a gyp."  
  
"You assumed that because I am Romany, I would panic at the first sign of frost. Well Niko, I am no stereotypical fool. Good Evening, Inspector" With that he turned his back to the baffled Lafayette and stepped out into the cold.  
  
'Superstitious? Unbelievable! How could a Senior Official be so ignorant?!' Javert shook his head as he descended the stone steps out onto the street. Thee wind pierced his woolen coat, bit his face, and whipped tears into his eyes. Cursing, he pulled his coast closer about him and headed on. 'When had Paris been this bitter?' Javert thought to himself as he walked. His experience didn't supply any great amount of information; this was his second year in Paris. Previously he had worked in Montreuil sur Mer, an inland town where the factories' smoke at least kept the inner part of the town from becoming too intense. He has also spent time stationed in control of the galley guard at Toulon, a seaside town where the water kept the area cool, though it never became this frigid. "Evening 'Spector!" a small voice cut through the wind, startling Javert.  
  
'Damn, I'm letting Lafayette get to me. It was all nonsense, rubbish.'  
  
"M'sieur?" the child spoke again.  
  
Javert turned to the little boy. "I'm not hearing voices; here's my proof", he muttered. Straightening, he eyed the young child suspiciously. "Can I help you?"  
  
The boy looked back trembling. "No m'sieur. I was just s'prised to see anyone out tonight. What with the wind actin' like it is, most people are inside with their doors and windows closed real tight" he scrunched his face up to emphasize his words.  
  
"You aren't" the inspector answered coolly.  
  
"Where am I to go? I don't got a home." Javert nodded and turned to leave. "Where are you goin'?" the boy called after him. "Can I come?"  
  
Sighing, the inspector turned once more to the child. "What's your name?" he asked.  
  
"Phillippe"  
  
Phillippe? How long had it been since he had heard that name? His name? Not since his mother..ENOUGH! "Well, Phillippe, I'm going nowhere important"  
  
"Can I come?" Phillippe asked again.  
  
"No, but I'll take you somewhere for the night, alright?"  
  
"Really?" the young boy's eyes lit up.  
  
'Why am I doing this? For a child, none of the less. Certainly there are better things to do than escort children? This one's different, though. He reminds me of someone, he reminds me of. myself'  
  
"Come on", he growled softly. 


	2. Two

They soon arrived at a small brick house, tucked between two store-fronts. Javert stepped forward and soundly knocked on the door. Bolts moved aside and the door opened slightly. "Wh- who's there?" a man's voice inquired from within.  
  
"Inspector Javert, Claude. Do you not recognize me?"  
  
"Inspector!" Claude exclaimed. "You must come in from the cold!"  
  
The door was thrown wide open to reveal the man standing behind it. At 62, Claude was short and balding, but as energetic as a child. He flitted all over the hallway as the inspector and the child entered.  
  
"It has been so long!" he chirped, "very long indeed! Ah, but here you are, so it no longer matters. Do sit down, I'll return straightaway." With that the little man dashed out and headed up the stairs. "Mathilde, Mathilde! We have a visitor!" his voice was heard as he scrambled up the stairs.  
  
Javert removed his hat and coat and sat close to the fire, hoping to warm himself up enough to return back outside. Phillippe remained by the door, looking longingly and the fireplace. "Well, come on, you must be cold." Javert turned to the little boy.  
  
"Are you sure it's alright?" he ventured.  
  
"Would I invite you if it wasn't?"  
  
Satisfied with the inspector's answer, Phillippe hurried toward the fire. "Why am I here?" he asked timidly.  
  
"Aren't you inquisitive" Javert commented. "We are here because it is insanely cold outside and you need a place to stay for the night."  
  
"But I got no money, m'sieur. How am I to sleep here?"  
  
Javert smiled. "They'll shelter you all the same. Not everyone in Paris has a leaden heart." Surprised by the inspector's warm feelings toward the Claude and his wife, Phillippe remained quiet. They soon heard Claude hurrying back down the stairs, chattering all the while. He entered, followed by a matronly woman; Mathilde. Her large eyes widened as she saw the Inspector.  
  
"I told you he'd come back, Mathilde. I told you and told you, day after day, and look! I was right!" Claude babbled on.  
  
"You did come back!" Mathilde opened her arms and ran to embrace the Inspector. Javert returned the embrace, blushing slightly. "But you should have come sooner: I have been so worried about you. I only get letters once a month. What am I to do the rest of the time? You could have been hurt or ill. Have you been? Are you hurt? Ill? Tell me."  
  
"Mathilde, I have been fine." Javert assured the woman. Seeing her eyes flicker uncertainly he added, "I'll write more often as well."  
  
The round woman beamed. "Now, to business." She said. "Certainly you didn't come to just say hello."  
  
Phillippe peered out from behind Javert, where he had dashed when the couple came into the room. "Who is this?" Mathilde gushed, smiling at the frightened little boy.  
  
"Phillippe" Javert answered.  
  
"Phillippe, eh?" Mathilde eyed Javert. "Well Phillippe, what can I do for you?"  
  
"He needs a place to..." Javert was interrupted by Mathilde.  
  
"Now, now. Let the boy speak for himself, Inspector" Mathilde beckoned the little child forward. Trembling, he approached her.  
  
"Well, Madame, I am cold... er. it is cold. and, you see. I.well."  
  
"Come on, out with it" the woman encouraged.  
  
Phillippe took a deep breath. "CanIstaywithyoutonight'causeit'scoldoutandIgotnowheretostay?" He looked up longingly at her.  
  
"Of course you may", Claude spoke up. "Only.."  
  
"Only you had best wash up If you want any supper" Mathilde threatened, ruining the effect by smiling. The little boy scurried off to clean up.  
  
"My, doesn't this seem familiar?" Mathilde asked, eying Javert once more. The inspector blushed once more, casting his eyes down, towards his boots. 


	3. Three

By the time Phillipe had finished washing of what dirt he could, the supper had been cooked and placed out on the table. The meal was an odd mixture of English and French cooking. Claude, who was an Englishman, insisted upon remembering his home at suppertime. Whole grain bread lay steaming on a platter next to fresh butter, an assortment of jams and a plate of various cheeses. Mounds of pasties were heaped on plates, with gravy running down their sides. Several legs of mutton and a ham hock sat on the table as well. Aside from this culinary show, bowls with fresh fruits and vegetables were placed about on the table. The little boy's eyes gleaned as he plunked himself in a chair and stared hungrily at the food. Javert stood in the doorway of the dining room, his heavy coat half on, arguing with Mathilde.  
  
"I really must go back out. My patrols must be carried out efficiently if I am to do well here", the inspector tried.  
  
"Oh nonsense! You don't want to be out in that horrid weather anymore I than I do. You are going to sit yourself down and eat supper with us. You've become much to thin from my liking; it disturbs me to see you underfed."  
  
"Mathilde, I appreciate your concern, but I.."  
  
"You. Table. Sit. Now", Mathilde settled the debate and went over to start serving the meal. Javert bowed and took a seat beside Claude. He smiled slightly, very glad that he had an excuse to stay away from the bitter night.  
  
~ * * * ~  
  
Stepping outside once more, Javert felt surprisingly at ease. After the first satisfying meal he had eaten all month, the inspector ad received a chance to finally reunite with the couple that had saved his life some twenty years ago. Never before had he realized all that he truly meant to those around him. For most of his life, he had been rejected, either due to his race, or his birth. Javert had assumed that the world contained nothing but ill will towards him. But now, to see Claude with shining eyes and a broad smile, or to listen to Mathilde prattle on about her concerns and fears, the inspector's perspective took on a new angle. He was able to relax and act as he had before time turned him cold. As for the little boy, he would now have the structure and care that Javert had received a taste of, but at a much younger age. What the inspector would have given to have the support that Phillippe now had. Perhaps life was taking a new turn towards improvement. With optimism gently flowing through his veins, warm and comforting, Javert set off to finish the night's work. The wind began to slow and Paris's chill began to lift. Directly overhead, the moon glimmered, nestled in the sky's azure folds. 


End file.
